


Side Effects

by vienn_peridot



Series: Changing Course [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: AU: Humanformers, AU: Merformers, Angst and Feels, Butts, Happy Ending, Humor, Illnesses, Injury, Lady!Jazz, Lady!Wing, Mer!Drift, Octomer!Ratchet, Other, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:30:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8867620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienn_peridot/pseuds/vienn_peridot
Summary: Drift still doesn't trust these humans.It takes some tough love from Ratchet to make him ask for help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Dialogue] = Spoken Mer language
> 
> This is set relatively early in Drift's time at the Wildlife Rescue+Recovery Center. He's only been considered rehabilitated enough to be allowed into the larger social pool complex for a few months and they don't let anyone except trained professionals work with him.  
> Although Wing isn't fully trained she is allowed to work with Drift while supervised and has been assigned to work on his socialisation so long as she stays out of attack range.

Drift’s back was sore, somewhere he couldn’t reach.

It was a _deep_ hurt too, not a surface wound or a bruise that could be seen on the surface. Drift wasn’t some pampered breeder-pet; he was tough, he was a _fighter_. No way was he going to complain about something that insignificant and look weak in front of the humans. Not even these humans. So he said nothing.

Besides; it was easy to ignore if he moved carefully, so it really didn’t bother him.

Much.

It was Ratchet who noticed the lump, helping Drift scratch at itching scars with his clever hands.

[Drift, you’ve got a lump back here.]

The octomer’s voice rumbled with an infrasound tone Drift had learned meant he was worried, but he shrugged the concern off, lying smoothly and easily.

[Been there a while. It’s nothing.]

He deliberately ignored everything else Ratchet said about it, swiping at the octomer and shooting away in a froth of bubbles and sharp-edged fins whenever he pushed the subject. It was hard for Drift to soothe his itching back on his own but he had endured worse.

A week later Drift was achy and sluggish, the lump seemed bigger and was definitely tender. His own fins brushing over it sent jagged lightning shooting through his entire body and he was obviously slowing down. Mentally as well as physically. The worse he felt the more he relied on instinct and learned behaviour, determined not to reveal weakness.

_Especially_ not a weakness that meant he would struggle to defend himself if these humans turned on him. So Drift tried to hide his state by withdrawing and acting aggressive whenever anyone got too close.

The only person he didn’t fool was Ratchet.

Who dobbed him in.

_Meddling asshole_.

Drift only found out when Jazz lured him into one of the smaller exam pools and closed the water-gate, shutting him in. He knew this place, he’d been held here until he stopped trying to attack other Mer through the thick metal grille separating it from the rest of the tank complex. The water-gate controls were too high above the ground for Drift to reach, even if he could beach himself and wriggle over to them.

Sick and hurting and terrified, Drift hid his fear by letting anger at Ratchet feed off the pain and become absolute _fury_.

He flared and snarled, hovering out of the human’s reach, fins quivering at full extension and slashing the water with his claws as he cursed the nosey octomer to the depths of the sea and back in language that would strip paint.

_I’m going to rip his guts out. Pull his tentacles off and_ choke _him with them_.

“Before I open the gate and let you out to try doing that, I’m checking that lump.” Jazz asked patiently. Drift had forgotten that this human could actually hear _and understand_ most of spoken Mer. “Just so you can rub it in his face if he’s wrong. If you can catch him, that is.”

“ _No_.” Drift spat, backing away and preparing to strike if Jazz made a move at him. “ _Not_ touching me.”

“Then you’ve got to stay in here.” At least Jazz looked repentant as she turned to leave by the human’s land-door. “Sorry Drift.”

She wasn’t though; not really. Even Drift could tell that.

_Smug, self-righteous fucks._ All _of them._

It wasn’t an effort to ignore the fish she brought him for dinner. He wasn’t hungry, hadn’t been hungry for days now. Especially not for dead fish packed in ice to slow their decay. After eyeing up the bucket and gauging the distance to the door he settled in to wait, biding his time.

_Shouldn’t have left this with me. Idiots._

Well, he hadn’t used this trick on them yet. And maybe they’d already forgotten who he was. _What_ he was. Drift’s mind felt hazy, thoughts slow to form. It was difficult to concentrate, especially with how his back ached and made it impossible to sleep comfortably. It got harder to think as the night dragged on and his weary body ached for rest that wouldn’t come.

_I’ve gotten soft. Used to be able to sleep just fine with way worse than a sore back._

Morning found him fighting bouts of dizziness, snarling hatred at the world and ready to pay it back for screwing him over like this.

As soon as the door opened he lunged up out of the water, grabbed the still-full bucket and _threw_ his previous day’s dinner –bucket and all- at the door with all his strength, aiming at where the average human head would be. He caught a flash of bright blue as someone dodged neatly out of the way of the flying bucket, a too-familiar voice echoing from the walls.

“The _FUCK?!_ ”

Drift’s fins went from wide with vicious triumph to flat against his body in an instant.

_Shit. Wing_.

“… _not hungry_.” Drift growled, forcing his fins wide again.

They were going to punish him for this. He couldn’t afford to show weakness, _especially_ not now.

So far nobody here had actually punished him for anything, but it was only a matter of time. Humans were all the same, no matter how much these ones tried to pretend they were different. Drift told the guilt worming into his heart to fuck right off as he hung still in the water, tensed and ready for retaliation.

_Not apologising to humans_. Never _apologising to humans_.

“I can kinda see that.” Wing’s voice sounded weird. Wobbly. “Um, I’ll come back later. If you want.”

Drift cocked his head to the side, confused and wary as he listened to Wing pick up the fish and leave without once entering the room to punish him for the attack.

_So they’re gonna do it when I’m not expecting it. I hate those ones_.

Suddenly exhausted, Drift sank to the bottom of the pool and tried to rest, chasing after sleep that always hung just out of reach. Time lost all meaning.

The next thing he knew a dull roar of infrasound all but paralysed him. Claws flexed, Drift jerked and looked wildly around for the source of the noise to see Ratchet on the other side of the water-gate, glaring at him with white-hot rage to match the angry patterns blotching his body.

[Listen here, you.] Ratchet snarled. [The humans here want to _help_ and you’re making it bloody hard for them.  They have to justify keeping you alive and right now you’re acting just like the irredeemably stupid, violent asshole that Turmoil claims you are.]

Tentacles that were fully capable of tearing Drift apart if the octomer got a good grip on him gripped the water-gate, curling menacingly through gaps in the metal fence.

_That’s if he doesn’t bite me first…_

[You want to get back at them? Then _prove them wrong_.] The octomer had been challenging him with this all along and Drift was only just starting to see the sense in it. This time Ratchet went one further. [If you still think your ego is more important than what these people are trying to do then _I will kill you myself_.]

Then Ratchet vanished. Gone as quickly and as silently as if he’d never been there.

Drift blinked stupidly at the empty water where the octomer had been.

_These humans are trying to help me? Because ones like Turmoil want me dead?_

Spite was as good a reason as any to cooperate. To live.

Mind made up, Drift finally acknowledged that throwing the dinner bucket had been a bad move. The dull throb in his back was now a burn that sent stabbing pains up and down his spine whenever he moved at anything other than a snails’ pace.

He didn’t see anyone else until midday.

Jazz arrived, bringing another bucket of fish. Live ones. Drift could see light reflecting back up out of the bucket and the _sounds_ they made in their metal prison piqued an appetite that had been dead for days.

“Hey Drift, you gonna eat something this time?” Jazz greeted him as if nothing had happened with Wing. “No way you’re not hungry by now.”

Still suspicious, Drift floated in the middle of the pool with only his eyes above water, watching as Jazz settled down with the bucket out of his grabbing range. There were too many possible reasons for her behaviour and his mind was too sluggish to figure out which was the most likely.

_She’s right though. I_ should _be hungry by now_.

That worried him more than anything else. Hunger was one constant he could rely on. It kept him sharp and vicious. For it to vanish like this without being drugged or eating anything… something was _definitely_ wrong.

_Looks like I do have to do this_.

Moving slowly, he eased towards Jazz, watching the human’s every twitch for a sign that punishment was coming. Fins held close, he got right up to the edge of the pool without seeing any sign of danger. Jazz just sat there with her hands on her knees, the bucket beside her, well out of Drift’s reach. He rose up in the water a little, fins still angled cautiously back as he studied the human.

Top of the face wrinkled up a little, head tilted to the side. Nothing in her hands that could be used to beat him and wearing a skintight water-suit with no pockets to hide nasty surprises. Only the bucket of fish he hadn’t seen the inside of yet. Harmless.

Drift still didn’t trust it.

Everything in his life had shown that even someone who looked as harmless as Jazz did right now could have hidden fangs.

And they didn’t need to be provoked to use them.

“What’s up, Drift?” Jazz asked when he’d been quiet for too long. “You hungry? How’s your back feeling?”

He wasn’t going to get a better chance.

“Here. Look.”

Hooking an arm over the side of the pool, Drift slowly manoeuvred his long body up so that his back was exposed, vulnerable to anything the human chose to do. He kept his face turned towards her so he could keep watch.

Jazz didn’t move.

“That patch of scar tissue beside your main dorsal looks swollen,” Jazz said carefully. “You mind if I come over and take a proper look?”

Drift snorted derisively, tail swishing in a move that had him hiding the pain it caused.

“Said _look_ didn’t I?” He tried to sound as if it didn’t matter. “Here, there. No matter.”

“Alright then, I’ll come have a look-see.” Jazz moved slowly, with a predator’s grace, obviously ready to dodge if Drift struck at her.  “Yeah that’s swollen alright.”

“Poke if you want.” Drift surprised himself by saying. “You lot always do.”

The look on Jazz’s face was worth it.

Worth the confusion at his own actions and the fear of what he was becoming under the influence of this place.

“Alright. Tell me when something I do hurts more,” Jazz talked right over Drift’s hiss of disgust at being implied weak. “Help me figure out what’s going on here, Drift. Then we can fix it.”

Long minutes of extremely uncomfortable poking and prodding passed before Jazz let him go. The human had been surprisingly gentle but Drift had seriously underestimated just how large an area was now extremely tender to touch.

“I think you’ve got an infected abcess in there under all that scar tissue, but it’s hard to tell for sure. All that muscle-scarring keeps getting in the way.”

“Open up?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“What?”

Drift rolled his eyes at having to explain this to a human.

“Open up, make drain.”

Jazz shifted, sitting back on her heels. The expression on the human’s face was enough to put Drift on full alert, ready to dodge and retaliate if she so much as flinched.

“We’ll have to, but it’s gonna be tricky.” Jazz said slowly, watching Drift just as intently as he was watching her.

He didn’t like the way her voice sounded when she said that. Slow, hesitant, pretending to be casual.

_Bad news._

“Tricky how?” Drift kept watching out of the corner of his eye as he rubbed itchy, drying headfins on the edge of the pool. Jazz took too long to reply, obviously thinking too hard about how to answer. “Tricky _how?_ ” Drift repeated, fins twitching irritably.

“Normally we _would_ numb the area and open the abcess to drain it, but with this one there’s a lot of scarring in the way and it’s too close to your spine.” Jazz spoke slowly and clearly, as if Drift’s ability to understand was even lower than his ability to speak. “Too close to go poking around willy-nilly. We’d have to sedate you for this.”

Sedation. Unconscious and vulnerable. Even though he was supposedly being given an option this time, there was still only one option and only one answer he could give.

_No._

“Medicine.” Drift demanded, raising himself up to stare Jazz in the eyes. His hip spurs scraped against the edge of the pool. “Medicine instead.”

Jazz grimaced, shaking her head and making the tiny braided ropes of her hair swing like kelp.

“It’s too late for medicine to work by itself; if we leave it much longer it could poison your blood.”

Drift hissed, fins flaring and flattening and flaring again.

“Don’t want sleep.” He insisted. “ _Other way_.”

“Too high a chance of accidentally paralysing you for anyone to sign off on that.” Jazz sighed, fingers twitching against her thighs.

Cold horror wormed down Drift’s spine and froze his guts.

He remembered all too well what the breeders and fighting-bosses did to paralysed Mer.

“No other way?” He pleaded shamelessly, fins shivering flat against his body in a fear-reaction that was beyond his ability to control.

“No. I’m sorry Drift.”

The fact that Jazz looked and sounded like she might actually be genuinely remorseful didn’t comfort Drift at all. His thoughts tumbled over each other and scattered half-finished, leaving him scared stiff and only able to see one way of getting through the surgery without the humans doing anything other than what they promised to do.

Looking Jazz dead in the eyes, Drift summoned all his courage and forced himself to say two words.

“Want Wing.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Compromise and cooperation are the keys to success.

Wing was the closest thing to an insurance policy that Drift could think of.

So far as he could tell, the human with the Mer-yellow eyes was something like a favoured trainee. Ratchet went out of his way to protect her as much as he could from the harsher realities of Mer life. Several times now Drift had seen Jazz stop mid-sentence and change what she had been about to say around Wing so he knew the humans were doing the same as Ratchet.

His fever and pain-addled mind could only draw one conclusion from this.

 _They won’t do anything bad to me with Wing here_.

Or so he hoped, at least.

Drift reconsidered his evaluation of ‘bad things’ as he watched workers set up supports for the all-too-familiar surgery sling around the pool they’d trapped him in. Getting into it on a good day was bad enough; with his back like this hindering his ability to move there was no way he’d be able to get in or out of the thing without help.

_Fuck._

Watching the final stages of setup from the bottom of the pool Drift was seriously reconsidering whether or not he was going to go through with this when Wing and Jazz entered the room, familiar voices alerting him to their presence.

It was the first time he’d seen or heard Wing since accidentally throwing the bucket at her.

Pushing carefully off and moving his spine as little as possible, Drift rose to surface well out of reach of the humans. He scanned the room, seeing the supply cart already there and recognising the surgeon with pale sun-coloured head fluff inspecting the contents. His eyes skipped over everyone else, stopping on Jazz and Wing in the corner of the room.

Wing’s hair didn’t look as bright as it had been; tied back out of her face so Drift could see Mer-yellow eyes as she watched him nervously. She was wearing a water-suit like Jazz with a looser thing over her top half that looked like thick skin. Drift recognised the material; the breeders sometimes wore it and it was hard to get his claws through. They’d only worn those when they thought their fighters would turn on them.

When they were scared.

Drift’s fins shivered and he found himself growling softly, the sound coming from deep in his chest.

_What made Wing afraid? Who is she scared of?_

He looked over the technicians and surgeon again, more carefully this time. If one of them had made Wing afraid he would show them what it meant to _hurt_.

Movement drew his attention back to where Jazz was putting her arms around Wing, hugging the other human and saying something Drift couldn’t hear. The way Wing was looking at him over Jazz’s shoulder told Drift exactly who had made her afraid to be in this room.

 _She’s scared of_ me _._

The realisation made Drift feel sick. Wing had never shown fear before, not in the entire time he’d been here. Especially not fear of _him_.

Before he knew what he was doing, Drift was as close to Jazz and Wing as the pool would allow, putting his hands flat on the tiles and click-chirping to get Jazz’s attention. It worked, Jazz keeping an arm around Wing and using it to steer the paler human over to stand within a safe distance of Drift. Wing took a step or two back when Jazz released her and crouched to be nearly eye-level with Drift.

“So, you ready to do this?” Jazz asked.

Drift shrugged and looked away, feeling his back throb and pull against the movement of his fins.

_Doesn’t matter if I’m ready or not. You’ll do it anyway._

“The sooner we start the sooner we’ll be done.” Jazz said, using a tone that was probably supposed to be sympathetic. “Let’s get you in the sling first then you can sleep through the worst of it.”

Drift looked up at Wing, catching a flicker of yellow eyes before she looked away.

Sighing, he pushed away from the edge of the pool and crawled through the water towards the surgery sling.

 

### ~V~V~V~

 

Getting Drift into the harness was a difficult and painful process.

Wing stayed out of the water, watching as Jazz and some of the full-time staff slipped into the water and helped the injured Mer into position, adjusting his arms and fins into comfortable positions before securing and lifting him.

Unlike every other time they’d had to get him into the harness they didn’t sedate him first. It was a huge risk but both Jazz and Ratchet seemed confident that despite the pain and fever Drift wasn’t likely to strike out at anyone without provocation. He hissed and flinched and flared his dangerously sharp fins when jolted but despite all that the hybrid Mer cooperated.

Cooperated _beautifully_ compared to how he’d behaved during his early days here.

 _He’s definitely_ not _stupid._

There was a bit of a struggle when his bizarre vestigial hip spurs got caught in an opening in the sling meant for pelvic fins on a similarly-sized Mer. Several of the techs shot back out of range, sure Drift was going to flip out. Instead he glanced at Wing, growled and fumbled with Jazz to get himself moved a little further along the sling so his pelvic fins could slide neatly through the gaps.

Everyone heaved a sigh of relief when Drift was strapped in and ready for sedation.

Then Drift saw the needle and froze.

The room went deadly quiet as his fins flared slowly and then flattened back down to tremble against his scarred hide. White showed around the irises of his strange, banded eyes.

Eyes that shifted to look at Wing, perfectly terrified. Silently begging her for something.

Drift’s mouth opened and closed. His throat worked and he tried again.

“Wing do it?” Drift’s voice cracked and the last word was more of a shape of lips and air than an audible word. “ _Please?_ ”

All heads turned to look at Wing.

Unable to deny the naked pleading on his face, she nodded.

“Okay.”

Taking the proffered hypodermic with numb hands, Wing forced herself to swallow her anxiety and walk calmly towards Drift. Even though the large Mer was somewhat restrained by the support harness it would still be very easy for him to attack if he changed his mind about this.

 _He asked. Does this mean he really_ does _trust me?_

Drift watched her with feverish intensity as she approached within striking range and knelt, keeping the hypodermic out of easy snatching range. Her thoughts raced as she went over and over the procedure in her mind, sure she’d forget despite having done this dozens of times by now.

_I’m just a student!_

“This has to go in a vein.” Wing’s voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. A person who had done this a million times before and was dealing with someone as predictable as Tailgate or Roddy. Clear and calm like her heart wasn’t beating its way from her chest. “Can I have your arm?”

Red-and-blue banded eyes blinked slowly at her. Wing counted the seconds, forcing herself to breathe evenly, waiting for Drift to change his mind. Then he shifted, extending an arm wrist-up, claws sheathed and hand tightly fisted. Harmless.

Drift’s eyes flicked down to the hypodermic then back up to Wing’s face, silently commanding.

_Do it._

Training took over and Wing administered the anaesthesia smoothly. Drift didn’t even flinch when the needle pierced the tough skin of his forearm. Instead of retreating to safety when it was done, Wing stayed. She put a hand over Drift’s tightly-clenched fist and waited as his fins stopped trembling and slowly relaxed to hang naturally in the water. As his eyelids slid closed and his head drooped back into the water Wing thought he heard him mumble something.

Then the last conscious tension left the Mer’s hand and it was time for the surgeon to go to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not medically trained at all and I'm going on a combo of wiki+medical website searches and what I remember from units in Animal Care&Equine Studies done 15 years ago and pulling the rest out my metaphorical ass. Sorry if I've screwed anything up *facedesk* 
> 
> **NOTES:**  
>  ~Wing is more afraid /for/ Drift than afraid /of/ him. (A little wary of him, but that is normal given the situation)  
> ~Drift doesn't understand the concept of people caring about him or being worried about him. He was created in the Triumvirate's labs and then sold to Turmoil as a fighter. He's lived his entire life thin physically, mentally and emotionally abusive environments.  
> ~Good old Health+Safety rules means Wing had to wear the jacket.  
> ~Drift was trying to say 'thank you' when he passed out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drift's opinion on one part of hominid anatomy is made ABUNDANTLY clear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week has been absolute garbage. Have some silly.

The world swam slowly back into focus.

Drift was familiar with the effects of heavy sedation, far more familiar than he’d like to be. As he floated back up out of drug-induced sleep he waited for nasty side-effects to kick in. It happened nearly every time, only once in a while had his keepers given him something his purposefully abnormal body could handle comfortably.

This time he felt good, _really_ good. His arms and fins wouldn’t respond properly when he tried them out, but it didn’t worry him.

It was actually kinda funny.

A muffled laugh escaped Drift before he remembered that silence was survival. He felt so good, relaxed and floaty and numb where he thought pain should have been.

_My back… That’s right; they were gonna fix that lump._

Something urgent had him raising his head before his neck muscles would really listen, fins twitching instead of flaring properly in response to the alarm flooding through him.

“Wing?”

Drift’s mouth was still underwater when he spoke but he still got the answer he wanted, _needed_ more than he’d admit.

“Here, Drift.”

His eyes wouldn’t quite focus properly, but there was only one human he knew of anywhere that had blue hair of any shade. An arm somehow got free of the sling-thing holding him and flopped around in the direction of the human’s voice until a small, dry hand took his and held it.

“I’m here.”

“ _Wing_.” This time her name emerged in a Mer-accented approximation of the human sounds, singing though Drift’s body in tones of relief.

With his impulse control completely annihilated by the anaesthetic in his bloodstream Drift impulsively tightened his grip just enough to be able to tug Wing over. A spectacular miscalculation of force meant he accidentally pulled the much smaller human right into the water with him.

A shocked sound burst from Wing. She tensed as Drift wrapped uncooperative arms around her middle to keep her head above water. He didn’t really remember how deep the water was here and his intention _wasn’t_ to harm the human. Tucking his headfins carefully flat he buried his head in the gap between his elbow and the human’s side, listening hard. The familiar body-sounds were soothing, comforting. The blood, pulse and air-breathing lung-sounds reassured him.

_Wing. Safe. Wing, safe…_

Wing’s small hands pressed on his shoulders as she tried to steady herself. Rumbling low in his chest, Drift tightened his grip a tiny bit more so the air-breathing human wouldn’t end up underwater while the rest of his body relaxed into the support of the surgery sling.

Wing was here; he was safe.

“Drift… you’ve got me a bit tight here.” Wing’s voice was high-pitched and strained. “’S hard to breathe. Can you loosen up little, please?”

Drift’s head shot up and he tensed. Horrified by the idea that he might be accidentally suffocating Wing he stopped squeezing, relaxing his hold and accidentally letting her drop into the water. Wing yelped in surprise, creating little points of pressure where she grabbed at Drift’s shoulders and squeezed as her head went under. His skin was too thick for her to damage so Drift ignored the sharp sensation, letting Wing use him to pull herself up, too afraid to interfere in case he did something wrong and accidentally hurt her.

The sling swayed as Wing’s head popped back up above water, spluttering and coughing. The sound echoed in the isolation room, faint sounds of splashing coming from somewhere out in the main pool complex less concerning to Drift than the state of the human right in front of him.

Chirping with concern Drift leaned forward, snuffling at the mass of wet blue hair covering Wing’s face as she stopped coughing and began to breathe properly. He made a face at the faint chemical smell of whatever-it-was that made her hair such a proper mer-like colour.

 _Nasty_.

“Wing ok?” Drift asked, painkillers making both his mind and his tongue slow and clumsy with the human words. His fins flick-twitched with worry, scraping against the sling. “Air?”

One of her small hands let go of his shoulder, pushing the whole sodden mass of hair back out of her face and giving him a weird little smile. Drift found himself grinning back, suddenly captivated by the human’s merlike yellow eyes and how they contrasted with the blue-tinted water running from her hair.

 _She’d make a_ beautiful _Mer..._

“I’m fine.” Wing said, hoarse from coughing. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

“Will say next time.” Drift promised as he nodded forcefully.

“Thanks.” Wing sounded genuine, so far as Drift could tell.

As Drift watched some of the blue water trickled down into Wing’s eyes. She made a face, raising one saltwater-soaked hand in a useless attempt to wipe it away. Drift saw another trickle of darker blue form near the hairline and frowned at it.

“WING!” Ratchet’s shout echoed painfully loud in the enclosed space. “Are you ok? What happened?”

Drift ignored the octomer; it would take him a minute or two to get through the water-gate. Besides, with Wing here there was next to no chance of Ratchet showing his violent side. He continued to support Wing in the water, happy to feel her heartrate slow to something normal after the almost-accident.

“I’m alright, Ratch.” Wing’s voice was a little muffled as she tried to rub the blue water from her face. “Just a bit wet.”

“Just a bit… _you’re not supposed to be in the water, you idiot!_ ” Ratchet’s voice rose several octaves, almost high-pitched enough to be physically painful.

Huffing to himself, Drift tuned the conversation out and leaned forwards, carefully licking the blue water from Wing’s forehead before it could run down into her eyes.

The human froze as Drift kept licking, cleaning off the rest of her face before moving on to grooming her hair. The blue-tinted water tasted far worse than it smelled and Drift knew he’d need something to get the taste out afterwards.

 _Sardines would be nice. Or a couple nice floppy pieces of_ bacon _._

The humans here were strange, always giving the Mer special foods –like the bacon- after surgery. Drift still wasn’t sure if he trusted it, but it had been reliable enough so far and those sorts of things were more common with the younger humans like Wing around. He continued to clean her; making sure the human’s hair was all pushed back from her face where it would hopefully stay; a satisfied rumble starting in his chest as he worked. Through the sling Drift could feel the water currents shifting with Ratchet’s approach but he continued to ignore it the same as had done everything octomer-related so far today.

“Drift?” There was a note of worry in Wing’s voice. “What are you doing?”

“Make tidy.” Drift explained around a mouthful of hair, not entirely sure what to do with the stuff. “Clean up.”

 _Humans are slagging_ weird _._

“He’s grooming you, kid.” Ratchet’s extremely amused voice came from close by.

Too close.

Happy rumbling changed to a snarl of rage in the blink of an eye, Drift bristling as best he could while still under the influence of the anaesthetic and trapped in the support sling. Trying to shield Wing with his body he hissed, then told Ratchet precisely what he’d do to the octomer if he tried to hurt Wing in any way. Protecting Wing meant she would stay, and if she stayed then the other humans were less likely to turn on him. Drift used anger to cover the gut-clenching terror of being injured and helpless and at the mercy of the humans that controlled this place.

Even though he slurred during his tirade Drift was confident that he still got the point across, given the way Ratchet’s entire body went white, red, then white again before settling into more normal patterns.

[I’m not going to harm her, Drift.] The octomer’s voice was laced with infrasound that seemed to throb right through Drift’s bones. [I was worried _for_ her.]

[ _Not going to hurt her._ ] Drift repeated, although this time it was clear he was talking about himself. [Not on purpose. I… accidentally squeezed too tight trying to hold her out of the water before. Then let go too fast.]

[I see.] Ratchet raised a sceptical eyebrow but seemed happy to take Drift at his word for now.

“Um… guys?” Wing asked awkwardly, butting in and breaking the tense atmosphere. “Do you mind if I hop out for a minute? My clothes weigh a _ton_ right now.”

Drift tilted his head to the side, staring at Wing with confusion. While she was using him to support more of her weight than she had been doing before, he couldn’t work out what she was getting at. Light reflecting off her blue hair distracted him and he blinked at it, frowning. Under the influence of the anaesthetic side-effects he could only really focus on one thing at a time.

_It doesn’t suit her all pushed back like that._

“These ones aren’t made for swimming.” The human explained. “They soak up water and it makes them heavy.”

“Like being in a weighted net.” Ratchet added. He still hadn’t come any closer but Drift could see from the way he was holding himself the octomer was still tensed and ready to move at a moments’ notice.

The net comparison made sense. Drift nodded understanding, fins twitching.

“Get changed, come back?” He asked, trying to hide his fear of what the others might do to him without the mer-eyed human around.

Wing must have caught the trembling he couldn’t hide. Carefully she shifted her grip and started patting his arms awkwardly. Red-and-white moved in the corner of Drift’s eye, Ratchet keeping his distance as he headed for the edge of the pool.

“I’ll come _right_ back; I _promise_.” Wing said firmly, her mer-yellow eyes serious.

Drift believed her.

The sudden realisation that he actually _trusted_ this human stole the words from Drift.

“I’m going to need help getting out of the water.” Wing broke the silence. “Jeans aren’t made for swimming in.”

While he didn’t understand what she meant initially, the problem became obvious right away. Not only was Drift still uncoordinated from the anaesthetic but he was also in the support sling. Wing looked over at Ratchet and back to Drift, frowning and biting at her bottom lip with her blunt human teeth. When Drift managed to get a good look at the octomer Ratchet was giving him an unreadable look while his tentacles swayed in their direction.

[Just get your ass over here.] Drift ordered, fixing Ratchet with a glare that _dared_ the octomer to make an issue out of what he’d said earlier.

_It was the truth; I’m not taking it back._

With a shrug Ratchet moved, flowing along the wall of the pool until he was close enough to help Wing from the water with hands and tentacles.

Determined not to be entirely useless, Drift tried to help. In the process he somehow ended up grabbing a handful of slightly squishy muscle he couldn’t readily identify.

Then he realised what it was and he just couldn’t help himself.

He started laughing.

 

### ~V~V~V~

 

Wing froze when she felt the hand.

_That’s… not Ratchet._

She knew that because the Octomer had one hand on the tiled edge of the pool and the other one on her upper back, supporting her as she struggled out of the water. Then the fingers flexed oh-so-gently and Drift began to make a sound she’d never heard him make before.

Laughter.

No; not _laughter_. Drift was busting a gut; all but _convulsing_ with mirth.

_And he’s… squeezing my butt?!_

For a moment she wondered if the mer had lost his mind.

Then she _knew_ he had, because Drift started hiccupping as he laughed, making noises that sounded like he was trying to speak Mer but was laughing too hard to actually get the words out.

After a confused minute of flailing she was out of the water, sitting on the edge of the pool and staring at the twitching, giggling, hiccupping mess of a mer that had, only minutes before, been dangerous enough to make _Ratchet_ blanch out when he snarled like that.

“What the _hell_ is going on here?” Jazz’s voice came from the door.

Wing could only imagine what it looked like.

She was soaking wet, wearing clothes definitely not designed for immersion and her was slicked back with a combination of water and mer drool. As for Ratchet, he was grinning and shaking his head even though he _definitely_ didn’t have permission to be here and Drift…

Drift was still giggling like a lunatic, full-body laughter that shook the entire structure supporting the surgery hammock. Every time he calmed down enough to babble something in Mer he’d set himself off again, trilling and hiccupping and cackling like a madman.

“Well?” Jazz asked, pushing the door open and standing there with one hand on her hip while the other one whipped out a cellphone. “I’m waiting.”

Wing was about to answer when her brain caught up with her mouth. Remembering what the hybrid mer had grabbed –and _squeezed_ \- Wing snapped her mouth shut, face burning.

“ _Apparently_ Drift here thinks that the human derriere is the most pointless thing in existence.” Ratchet said, low rumbling laughter lacing his words as he explained. “What I _think_ he’s trying to say is that they are hopelessly impractical, absolutely absurd and _no_ sensible creature should have one.”

“Really?” Jazz sounded understandably sceptical.

_She can’t see the way he’s making butt shapes with his hands under the water…_

“Pretty much.” Ratchet shrugged, watching Drift’s hands move and shooting Wing a slyly amused glance that made her blush harder. “That’s the general meaning. He’s being cruder about it, _of course_.”

“If you say so.” Clicking her phone off, Jazz slid it away. “Anyway, I’m here to check Drift’s stitches. It seems he’s reacting to the anaesthetic about as well as we expected him to.”

Suddenly Drift looked up at Wing. For a moment she expected him to ask her to stay, but when he opened his mouth all that emerged was a click-squeak sound she was starting to suspect was the Mer word for ‘butt’ before dissolving into helpless giggles again.

 _Why didn’t I decide to work with small mammals? They would have been_ so much _easier…_

Wing stayed until Jazz was done. Afterwards she went in search of towels and dry clothes while Ratchet kept an eye on Drift.

Then, despite how late it was she went back to the isolation room to find Drift calmer and in a much better mood than he had been in for weeks. To her surprise she found the two mer talking; having a conversation in spoken Mer too low and fast for her to catch any words.

As soon as Wing sat on the edge of the pool Drift shocked her by wriggling over and pushed his head into her lap, wrapping his arms around her in a loose embrace. Confused, Wing looked at Ratchet, hoping the octomer would be able to give some sort of explanation. There was a strange half-smile on the octomer’s face and he nodded, looking pleased by this development even though he stayed frustratingly silent.

Not quite sure where to put her hands, Wing put one on Drift’s shoulder and used the other one to gently smooth over relaxed headfins, scooping up the odd handful of water to spread around so they didn’t dry out.

Soon after this Drift fell asleep, fully relaxed in the company of a human for the first time they’d seen at the WRC.

Looking up to meet Ratchet’s serious teal eyes, Wing dared to hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> with how I headcanon Mer biology and the general phenotype of most marine creatures, gluteal muscles and therefore butts make absolutely no fuckin sense on/to them (like they do on homonids) so... yeah idek how to explain this right now too tired JUST HAVE THE SILLY


End file.
